


Presenting "Untitled Robert Downey Jr/Tina Fey Project" Starring Robert Downey Jr and Tina Fey. (This Film Is Not Yet Rated)

by spacemonkey



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Crack, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:18:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Downey Jr had always enjoyed a challenge. Tina Fey preferred Häagen-Daz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presenting "Untitled Robert Downey Jr/Tina Fey Project" Starring Robert Downey Jr and Tina Fey. (This Film Is Not Yet Rated)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me mention that I adore both these people, a bit too much. Tina, I will have your babies. Robert, likewise. I love your man-purse.
> 
> That said, it's fun to make fun...
> 
> (written in 2010)

As Robert Downey Jr stepped off the street and into the rat hole his agent called an office, he found himself feeling quite self satisfied. This was not a new thing for him; in fact one might call it decidedly old hat. Still, as he walked through the door without knocking and spread his arms as if to say “yes, it is I”, he thought that perhaps it was a feeling that one should embrace constantly.

After all, he was Robert Downey Jr.

His agent hung up the phone without bothering to say goodbye, and Robert Downey Jr inclined his head somewhat, then waited to be seated. He did not have to wait long, and he offered the young blonde woman a smirk once she had finished dusting off the black leather with her bare hands. It was the least he could do. Then he sat down and waited for the young blonde woman to shut the door behind her before starting the conversation with a curt nod. “Shoot.”

“I have two words,” he agent said, hands excitedly poised in the air, and Robert Downey Jr was as pleased as one could be whilst perched on a chair that clung to his buttocks and was most likely priced at perhaps a measly five hundred dollars. Two words from his agent were much more preferable than eighteen or even three. 

“Then say them.”

“Tina. Fey.” His agent sat forward in his seat almost instantly, and Robert Downey Jr was not exactly pleased with the way his beady little eyes drilled into Robert Downey Jr’s skull, but he said nothing. He was too busy mulling over the idea in his superior mind. 

Tina Fey. She was more attractive than most, perhaps all of the mole people he had graciously allowed in his presence over the years and The New Yorker had even made mention of her once, as a woman of “comedy”. Of course, he could not forget the time he had found Indio viewing her little show. He had left it a full thirty seconds before chiding his child and switching over to the History Channel. There had been a delightful documentary on the Renaissance, after all.

But the Oscars were still fresh in his mind, and it pained Robert Downey Jr to remember how she had held out her hand, as if he was to shake it, and then transformed into a feisty little bitch before his very eyes. It had been his meeting with Val Kilmer all over again.

Working with her would prove to be a challenge. Perhaps the greatest challenge of his handsome and youthful life.

Robert Downey Jr had always enjoyed a challenge.

 

**

 

Tina Fey was not as quick to welcome a challenge. Sure, she had wormed her way into the hearts of middle aged ladies worldwide, and Lorne Michaels to boot, but when it came to Robert Downey Jr, she only had one thing to say.

“No way, I will not work with that man.” She shook her head, all “nuh uh,” and spooned another mountain of Häagen-Daz into her mouth. It was chocolatey and it was good.

“That’s what you said about Alec Baldwin,” her attractive and unattainable agent Mike said, with a hint of pity in his voice. Tina ignored it, as she often did, and took a shot of whipped cream directly into her mouth. “And now look at where you are. Often sitting in the audience, watching him win award after award.”

Tina rolled her eyes, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I won some awards too.”

Mike patted her hand. “I know you did, kid,” he said, and oh yeah, definitely pity that time. She was going to lose this argument, big time.

 

**

 

They met on the set of their new action/comedy/romance film, currently titled “Untitled Robert Downey Jr/Tina Fey Project”. Tina had suggested to a grip that they should rename it “RomCom Oh Shit A Bomb” and the grip had laughed. It was a good feeling, until he stopped laughing and said “every time I look at you, I think of Alec Baldwin being awesome.” 

Robert Downey Jr was just pleased that his name came first.

They met in Robert Downey Jr’s trailer slash chateau, and before Tina could even pretend to faux nice the whole thing, Robert Downey Jr held up his hand and said, “First rule. You do not address me as Robert, or Mr Downey Jr, or even,” he paused to shudder, “RDJ. You definitely will not address me as “Yo Bobby”. You are not a try hard gangster talking to Robert DeNiro, no matter how badly you dress and how impressive I am. I am to be called Mr Robert Downey Jr at all times, and I take my coffee white with a hint of caramel, I suggest you make a note of that. Yoga is between four and six every day, and I rest for an hour before and an hour after. You are not invited to attend Yoga, no matter how much you want to.”

He raised an eyebrow at Tina in an attempt to bait her into saying or doing something irreversibly foolish. “Are there any questions?”

Tina didn’t answer. Instead, she stood there with her mouth hanging half open, and Robert Downey Jr was perplexed. Usually women – and the occasional man, because his sexuality was a gift for anyone he deemed worthy – only made that face when they were on their knees in front of him. This was one of the few things Robert Downey Jr had not anticipated in his short and spectacular life.

Sixteen and a half minutes later, Robert Downey Jr sat on the edge of his king sized bed, lacing up the blue sneakers that clearly matched the white pinstripes his charcoal suit dared to boast. He retrieved his purple cashmere scarf from atop the lampshade, and wrapped it haphazardly around his neck, then turned to face Tina.

She was lying naked in bed, her sickly little body covered in Egyptian cotton sheets that he had requested from Valentino. He had been told the thread count on them was twelve hundred, but the way they draped over her wiry frame, Robert Downey Jr suspected a number moderately lower. That thought, coupled with the look Tina was giving him, made Robert Downey Jr feel quite vexed. 

“Well, that was unexpected,” she said needlessly, and Robert Downey Jr brushed the words off as he headed towards the door. They had a movie to shoot, after all. “I thought you’d be better. Kinda quick.”

Robert Downey Jr paused with his hand on the doorknob. He didn’t turn, but squared his shoulders like the true thespian he was. Truly, this was almost exactly the same way his relationship with Val Kilmer had progressed.

He left the trailer quickly, ignoring the way her voice called after him, requesting a meatball sub. Though when she added, “Yo Bobby, I’m talkin’ to you!” he felt part of his soul shrivel up and knock on Death’s door.

It was a most unpleasant feeling.


End file.
